The Prince of Spies (Hope and Glory #3) - Elizabeth Camden Page 0,71
a picnic spread out before them. Luke had his back to her.
“Hello?” she asked.
Five people swiveled toward her in surprise, and Luke leapt to his feet.
“There’s the prettiest sight I’ve seen all day,” he said as he crossed toward her as if this happened all the time.
“I don’t want to disturb you,” she said to the others still sitting on the lawn. “I simply came to give Luke something.” That something being a photographic stack of reports that should have been submitted to the government instead of being buried in her family’s archive.
“Come join us,” Luke said. “My family is trying to evict me, and I could use someone on my side.” Her eyes widened in surprise, but he was laughing, as were the others, so the threat couldn’t be too serious. “Come to the front, and I’ll let you in.”
She scurried through the overgrown grass on the side of the house and met him at the front door. Before she could say anything, he swept her into his arms to steal a lingering kiss. Her tension from the past twenty-four hours drained away in the comfort of his embrace.
“Let’s go join the others,” he said after he finally released her.
He led her down the center hallway and out to the back garden, where he introduced her to Nathaniel Trask, his future brother-in-law, who didn’t look too stuffy, since he wore an open-collared shirt and rolled-up sleeves. She had already met Gray and Caroline, but Gray’s wife was the only one not sitting on the grass. Annabelle wore a loose white gown and sat on a bench beneath a pear tree, gently fanning herself.
“We’re not evicting Luke,” Annabelle said. “We just don’t know if we’re going to turn his bedroom into a nursery, or if it will be in the addition we’re planning to build onto the back of the house.”
A glance at Annabelle’s waistline explained why she was sitting on the bench instead of sprawling on the picnic blanket like the others.
“I’m sorry for intruding,” Marianne said. “I merely came to deliver some photographs to Luke.”
“Photographs?” Caroline said. “Show us! Luke has been bragging about your wonderfully artistic pictures.”
Her fingers curled around the satchel. Photographs of old recipes and scientific studies were surely the least artistic pictures she’d ever taken.
“They’re just dull, government pictures,” Luke said, neatly saving her from an explanation. “Let’s not change the topic of how I am to be banished from the family home to make way for the coming infant.”
Gray rolled back on the grass and covered his eyes. “Such melodrama!” he moaned. “Miss Magruder, please join us. Perhaps you can reel Luke back from the cliff of despair he is determined to enjoy.”
“Only if you call me Marianne,” she said, sinking to her knees on one of the blankets.
Caroline filled a plate with some sliced pears and a wedge of cheese. Everyone ate with their hands instead of silverware. How refreshing this was! Picnics in the Magruder household involved tables set beneath a tent with maids serving meals and a musician playing an instrument from a tactful distance. Here the only music was a couple of sparrows chirping overhead.
The next hour was perfectly delightful, but throughout it all, the cache of photographs tugged at her conscience. She needed to pass them over to Luke in private. Her fingers curled around the rim of the case that was hidden inside her satchel.
Luke must have noticed, for he sprang to his feet. “Let me show you the harbor at the end of the street. I spent half my childhood escaping my chores there.”
His hand was warm as he helped her rise. She said farewell to the others and followed Luke down the hallway of the house. He slipped inside a book-lined study and turned to her.
“Here’s what I found,” she said, turning the case over to him.
“What did you get?”
“Everything, including all five studies commissioned by the Committee on Manufactures. Recipes too. Dr. Wiley swore he wouldn’t use the recipes for anything other than assessing their safety.”
Luke flipped through the recipes quickly but slowed as he reached the scientific studies, letting out a low whistle. “I’ve been looking for these,” he said. “The committee released two studies, but the other three seemed to disappear.” He held up a few of the photographs. “Voilà. You’ve found them.”
She shifted uneasily. “I can’t make any sense of them. Will Dr. Wiley be able to figure them out?”